Awakenings
by QuirksnQuills
Summary: The morning after the Battle of Hogwarts. Ron Weasley opens his eyes on a brand new world - what will he find? Canon-compliant, R/Hr. May or may not be a one-shot, depending on response.


**Awakenings**

_Crazy true story – I discovered I had an old Wordpress account that I published a private post to, and then promptly forgot when my old laptop died. This story has been completely forgotten for almost three and a half years. It can stand alone as a one-shot; whether or not I continue depends on the kind of response this gets. We'll see. _

_Canon-compliant, R/Hr, rated M just to be safe. Enjoy…and review, if you please._

_Disclaimer: This fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Dawn did nothing to rouse Ron Weasley from his slumber, mostly because he wasn't asleep. He was lying in his boxers on top of the sheets, watching the dust motes swirl lazily in the buttery shaft of sun coming through a crack in his bed curtains. His final night in the student dormitory had been restless despite his exhaustion following the final battle with Voldemort. Having refused the sleeping draught that Poppy Pomfrey tried to press upon him, Ron had spent the entire night lost in contemplation of his future.

He had no idea whether or not Hogwarts was going to be open the next year, but either way Ron reckoned he wouldn't be coming back. He had little to learn from another year of schooling and - he suppressed a shudder - his NEWT exams. Hermione was likely to get a bit shirty with him when he told her, and he was sure to have to listen to endless lectures from Percy and his mother, but Ron had already made up his mind. He was needed elsewhere.

Abandoning all hope of sleep altogether, Ron sat up and stretched, then rubbed his eyes and pulled back the bed curtains. Harry was sprawled diagonally on the next bed, sleeping peacefully on his stomach with his clothes still on and his glasses pushed askew by his rumpled pillow. Stifling a laugh, Ron hopped off his bed, removed Harry's glasses, and placed them carefully on his friend's nightstand. Scrubbing his hands over his face and yawning, Ron decided to get dressed in a hurry and see what was for breakfast.

* * *

Hermione Granger was so deep in thought that she didn't look up from her plate of eggs and kippers when Ron flopped down next to her at the Gryffindor table. She sat twirling one long brown curl absently around her index finger and staring at a smear of egg yolk on her plate with a bemused expression. Ron reached over and gently closed his broad, warm hand over her slender white one, disentangling it from her hair. Hermione started and made to pull away, but she relaxed slightly when she saw who it was.

"You shouldn't twirl your hair, you know. You'll make it fall out."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Ron grinned. "It's true! My house isn't a complete testosterone sink, you know. Mum's been on Ginny since she was little not to twirl her hair. Actually, Ginny used to chew."

"Her hair?"

"Yep."

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste. Ron laughed. "Don't tell her I told you, or you'll be kissing me through a swarm of bat bogeys, next thing."

The moment it was out of his mouth, Ron regretted his joke. Hermione tensed, her expression unreadable. He suddenly realized he was still holding her hand and dropped it as though it had burned him. A dusky red flush crept slowly from his collar to his hairline. His stomach swooped nauseatingly as a sudden case of nerves gripped him. What if Hermione decided she'd made a mistake, kissing him in the heat of the moment? His blue eyes bored into her brown ones, trying to discern her true feelings.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Harry swung a let over the bench across the table. His black hair was even more unruly than usual and there were still dark smudges under his eyes, but he had lost the pinched look that had become his habitual expression of late. His good mood this morning was nearly palpable, and no wonder, Ron thought.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, grateful for the intrusion. "No, not at all. How did you sleep?"

Harry grinned. "I didn't dream. I thought I would have nightmares, but for the first time in forever, I didn't dream a single thing. No doors, no hallways, no cackling, no flashes of green light, and no. Bloody. Snakes." Ron and Hermione laughed, the tension between them broken for the moment. Harry reached for a piece of toast. "So what d'you reckon the plan is, now that Voldemort's gone and we have to clean up this mess?"

Ron frowned slightly, not wanting to discuss his plans just then. "Dunno, mate."

"Well, first there's the matter of burying the dead and healing the injured," said Hermione matter-of-factly, pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice. Setting the jug down, she began listing things off on her fingers. "Then there's making sure that everyone's accounted for and searching for anyone who's missing. The Ministry is going to have to be reorganized from the top down. There will have to be inquiries," she ranted, a fanatical gleam in her eye. "Then there is the matter of rebuilding Hogwarts…"

"Slow down, Minister Granger," begged Harry, holding his hands up in mock protest. Ron sniggered and almost choked on a mouthful of bacon. "The first thing I think we should do is take a well-deserved rest."

"Yeah, at the Burrow. Mum won't mind putting you both up - she'll be happy to have us all where she can keep an eye on us. Even now that all the hands on the clock aren't pointing to 'mortal peril.'" Ron paused for a moment, thinking morbidly of Fred's hand on the clock. Where would it be pointing now?

"Speaking of your mum, where is everybody?" Harry glanced around the Great Hall casually, but did not see Ginny's bright hair in the sea of bobbing heads. Before Ron could answer, Professor McGonagall's magically amplified voice rang out over the Great Hall, and the hum of chatter ceased abruptly.

"May I have your attention, please?" She stood with her hands raised in unconscious imitation of Dumbledore, calling attention to the podium at which she stood. "Thank you. Later this afternoon, the Hogwarts Express will be standing by to take anyone who wishes to leave for London. However," she continued, "it is our hope that some volunteers will choose to stay behind and assist the staff with the reconstruction effort here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." A murmur ran through the crowd at this.

"We will continue to rebuild over the summer in order to reopen the school as usual on September the first. The repair crew will be accommodated in Hogsmeade over the summer, as the castle is too heavily damaged at present to assure the safety of its residents. Any witch or wizard who is of age and wishes to volunteer may see me in the Headmaster's office immediately following breakfast." Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at her throat, murmured _"Quietus,"_ and resumed her seat at the staff table.

Hermione answered Harry's previous question. "I think everyone has gone to the mortuary in Diagon Alley to make arrangements for Fred's funeral. Well, except George. He said he needed to be alone. I don't know where he went, exactly."

"Izza gud ideafer'im tubee lone rinow?" Ron garbled through a mouthful of kipper. Hermione glared at him.

"Soon enough he's going to be surrounded by a bunch of people telling him how sorry they are for his loss, as though they could possibly have any idea what it's like." Harry frowned, his green eyes clouding over. "Believe me, I have a pretty good idea of what's coming. He'll need some time to pull himself together."

Sobered by the thought of Fred's funeral, the three friends finished their breakfasts in silence. Harry left to pack his trunk, joining a growing stream of people pouring from the Great Hall into the castle. Ron watched his friend's retreating back, surprised that Harry wasn't heading to McGonagall's office first thing to volunteer for the repair crew. He supposed Harry had been serious about that well-deserved rest.

Ron was startled out of his reverie by a tentative touch on his shoulder that brought the swooping feeling back to his stomach. Hermione was standing next to the table, looking ready to leave. Clearing her throat, she said, "Let's go to the library, Ron."

"Are you completely mental? What the hell _for?_" Ron gaped.

"I need to talk to you, Ron. In private. I can't imagine anyone else would be there just now."

"Oh," he squeaked, grimacing when his voice broke.

* * *

The library, as Hermione had predicted, was completely deserted. Even Madam Pince had cleared out. Parts of the library had escaped Voldemort's siege unscathed, although several windows were broken and the bookshelves near them had been knocked over. One corner of the History of Magic section had been blown into a pile of rubble and scattered paper. It was unnaturally silent, even for a library. Undeterred, Hermione led Ron into the secluded gloom of the Restricted Section. _Whatever she wants to talk about,_ he mused, _she certainly wants to make sure we're not overheard._ The thought filled him with an odd mixture of dread and hope.

They walked all the way to the back corner and Ron sat on top of a table, pushing aside a few books that were scattered across its surface. Hermione did not sit; instead, she paced before Ron, wringing her hands and biting her lip. Finally, Ron could not bear to watch her anymore. When she was faced away from him in her stride, he slid silently off the table and came up behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders to still her movements.

"Hermione." Ron's voice was husky and low. "Look at me." He turned her gently around, and saw that her eyes were swimming with tears. He cupped her face tenderly in his hands, wiping away the tears that were coursing down her cheeks with his large thumbs. "What's wrong?"

Hermione was uncharacteristically tongue-tied. She glanced away and back again at Ron nervously. "I just…wanted to apologize…"

"Apologize? For what?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"I couldn't help but think…I might have embarrassed you…before." Her delicate brows were furrowed and tilted upward over liquid brown eyes in an expression that was almost beseeching. A few stray hairs were caught near the corner of her sensitive mouth, and Ron brushed them away without thinking.

"What, when you kissed me?"

Hermione nodded. "And I understand if…erm, in the heat of the moment…that is…especially now that your brother's gone and your family needs you…if now isn't the time..."

"Hermione." Ron laid a finger across her lips, amused. He had never seen her at such a loss, and for some reason it emboldened him. One corner of his mouth quirked with a barely-suppressed smile. It was time to tell the whole truth. "I have wanted you from the time that I saw you come downstairs at the Yule Ball in fourth year. I realized at that moment what a stupid arse I was for not asking you to be my date right away. And then when I came back this year and found you two still camped out in the middle of nowhere...I thought you'd taken up with Harry and I was so jealous."

Hermione laughed through her tears. "Ron."

"I'm serious, Hermione. I've been second-best all my life, and I didn't think that this - that we - would be any different."

"You've never been second-best. Not to me. I don't go around mentally rating the people in my life in order of some arbitrary value, Ron," Hermione said softly. "Harry is like the brother I've never had. I love him, but he's got a very specific place in my life. That's not a line either of us have ever wanted to cross."

"So what do you see when you look at me?"

Hermione paused. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth as if to quell a sob. "The one thing I wanted and couldn't have."

Ron closed his eyes. Grief over his brother and his lost friends warred with triumph in his belly. He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids, and he struggled to suppress the sob that threatened to rise in his throat. "You can have me. I need you, Hermione. Especially now." He sniffled. "So much for the emotional range of a teaspoon, eh?"

Hermione made a noise that was something between a laugh and a sob. Ron rested his forehead against hers and breathed her in. In that moment, every detail was frozen in Ron's mind: Hermione's deep brown eyes, so sad and soft, fluttering closed; the tears caught like tiny dewdrops in her thick lashes; the intoxicating smell of her hair. He dropped his hands to her tiny waist and drew her near; and she slid her hands up over his chest and locked them behind his neck, letting her fingers twist in the longish red hair that swept his collar. Ron lowered his lips to hers. He kissed her gently but soundly. She parted her lips hungrily, sighing involuntarily against his mouth. A sudden thrill of passion ran through him as Hermione deepened the kiss, tracing her tongue over his, exploring. Ron lifted her and sat her on the table, standing between her knees so they were face-to-face without him having to stoop. He didn't want to rush her, especially considering how emotional and exhausted they both were, but he could feel his restraint slipping away. Her hands slid into his robes and under the shirt he was wearing beneath them, and the feel of her palms against the bare skin of his back was driving him wild. His fingers itched to explore her body, but not like this. Not here. Using the last bit of propriety he had, he broke the kiss, gasping for air. Hermione backed away slightly, panting.

"So, now what do we do?"

Ron smiled down at her. "We go home."


End file.
